Gently Lay My Head
by Allekha
Summary: The third time they met, Victor asked Chris to sleep with him. Of course Chris said yes. (One-sided Chris/Victor)


"Chris!"

He felt his pulse leap. Chris turned towards the voice, although he already knew who it was; there was no mistaking Victor, after all. Victor was standing in the middle of the hotel's lobby with pile of suitcases and a vaguely familiar boy – Chris was pretty sure he was also a skater from Russia, but couldn't remember his name – and moving his hand in a wide arc above his head. As soon as Chris met his eyes, before he could wave back or anything, Victor shot him a smile and abandoned his companion to rush over to Chris at the elevators.

"Chris!" he exclaimed again, his face bright. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," said Chris, feeling himself flush, wondering what exactly he'd done to earn Victor's enthusiastic attention. Not that he was unhappy with it, but they'd had that little exchange at the European Championship last year, a longer but still unfortunately limited conversation at World's, and after the summer, now was the first time they'd met this season. He told himself not to waste this chance. "Ready to skate. How are you?"

"Ready to win," Victor said with a laugh. He moved closer, bumped against Chris's shoulder. "Hey, Chris, I have a favor to ask."

"What? I mean – what is it?"

The elevator that he'd been waiting for finally arrived with a little _ding_. He looked at it, then glanced at Victor, who nodded and followed him in. They had it to themselves, all of its mirrored walls and soft lighting. Chris hit the button for his floor and turned to find Victor giving him a look. Something about his expression – perhaps the gentle tilt of his smile, or the way his eyelids had sank a fraction – made his blush deepen. Victor was incredibly pretty even without that look; Chris could have stared at him all day.

"Sleep with me," Victor blurted.

"Um." Chris could _feel_ the heat in his cheeks. "Okay!" It was a bit sudden, but there was no way in hell he was going to turn down an offer like _that_.

Victor clasped his hands together, and then a moment later Chris's vision was covered with silvery hair as Victor hugged him. Chris hugged him back on reflex, throwing his arms across Victor's upper back. Victor's grip was so tight that it was almost painful. "Thank you! I don't know most of the skaters here, and Georgi already said no and anyway he talks too much about that girl he likes, and anyway, you're the cutest of them. My room or yours? Oh, wait, let's do yours, Yakov is still checking us in. What's your room number?" Victor asked, suddenly shoving Chris back just enough for them to look at each other.

"1402," he said. The elevator came to a shuddery halt.

"Okay, I'll come by tonight, then." He gave Chris another grin and a final squeeze to his shoulders as the doors opened, before letting him go.

"See you," Chris said, stepping out into the hallway and raising a hand to wave at Victor. Victor waved back, and then the doors closed and he was left alone. Feeling dazed, he found his room, let himself in, and flopped back on the bed.

He had been hoping to have a real conversation with Victor this time, one that didn't get cut short. Maybe, if he was being optimistic, some making out in a bathroom or something after they skated. Getting propositioned by him before the competition had even started was like something out of a fantasy.

He tried not to let it distract him too much for the rest of the afternoon and evening, but the thoughts kept coming back: _Victor wants to sleep with me. Victor is coming to my room tonight. Victor thinks I'm cute._ By the time he got back to his room after dinner, it was hard to think of anything else as his excitement (and just a touch of nerves) bubbled up. It wasn't until he stepped into the room and checked the clock that he remembered that Victor had never actually said when he was coming over, and they didn't have each other's numbers.

Looking for something to do, he nudged his shoes out of the way from where he had kicked them off and busied himself for a bit with unpacking, but that didn't take too long. He brushed his teeth, and then, with nothing else to occupy himself, spent several minutes in front of the mirror attempting to mess with his appearance. His blond curls were happy to lay where they were, however, and as much as he poked at his round cheeks, the baby fat refused to melt off.

He couldn't help but frown for a moment. Between his hair and his childish face, he was the perfect image of some Heidi-like child playing with flowers in a Swiss meadow. The songs for both of his programs this season were light and innocent, which didn't help, though staring at the mirror like this it was hard to imagine himself skating to anything more interesting.

Oh, well. He ran his fingers through the curls one more time and watched them fall back into place, fluffy and neat. He was going to grow up properly someday, and anyway, it was the present him that Victor expressed interest in, not his (surely handsome) future self.

Chris wandered back to his bed and grabbed the book from the bedside table. It was something he had picked up a while ago mostly to practice his English, promptly forgotten about, and then tossed into his bag on a whim to have something to do on his flight if he couldn't sleep. It wasn't _particularly_ interesting so far, but it would be easier to throw aside than his laptop when Victor got here.

The book became a little better as it went on, and Chris was actually absorbed in it when a loud knock made him jump. He scrambled from the bed and raced to the door, then paused to run a hand over his hair once more before opening it. "Hi, Victor."

"Hello!" Victor bounced in, carrying a small backpack. Despite the late hour, he seemed almost as energetic as he had been earlier. Chris made sure the door was locked properly as Victor pulled off his shoes. "Since it's so late, I'm just going to get ready for bed, okay?"

"Okay." Victor disappeared into the bathroom, and Chris wondered if he should change out of his day clothes. On the one hand, he liked the idea of Victor undoing all his buttons and stripping him down; on the other hand, it would be easier to go to sleep if he already had on his night clothes, and they would be faster to get out of if need be, too.

Once he had changed, he sat on the edge of the bed with just one lamp on, waiting, but when Victor didn't emerge after several minutes, boredom took over and he picked up his book again. The room was chilly, too, even after he had adjusted the thermostat earlier, so he slid his legs under the covers. He wasn't sure how long Victor took, but Chris was several pages into the next chapter when he finally came out.

Victor dropped his backpack against the wall with a yawn. It was strange to see him like this: not in one of his beautiful skating costumes, or dolled up in a suit or nice button-up, but in normal sleeping clothes, shivering and tucking one arm against himself as he fussed with the thermostat. Chris had to watch this Victor, pretty but not ethereal, as he walked around and slid into the other side of the bed without a word.

Chris hastened to put the book aside and turn the lamp off, then slid down under the comforter, heart suddenly pounding. He didn't have a lot of experience with this kind of thing yet, and what he did have hadn't taken place in a bed, or in such a pleasantly quiet, dark room. But after a whole afternoon of thinking about it, imagining what they might do (his hands in Victor's hair, Victor's mouth against his neck, their chests pressed together, Victor's arms around his waist) he was eager to get started.

Victor made a kind of grabby motion with one hand above the covers. Chris obliged and slid closer until Victor could pull him in. He held his breath for a moment, expecting a kiss, or at least a hand sliding along his cheek. Instead, he found himself shoved down as Victor pulled himself up a bit, until his head was tucked under Victor's chin. Victor sighed and dragged them even closer, winding one hand under Chris's neck and the other over his back.

Chris blinked, moving his head slightly when his eyelashes brushed against Victor's skin. Did he want to cuddle _first_? Hopefully not for too long; Chris's arms had gotten folded into uncomfortable angles, and his hip was in just the wrong position to dig into the mattress.

"Thanks," Victor said, snuggling into his hair. _That_ felt good, at least. "I was so glad to see you here!"

"Yeah?" he asked. His heart rate, which had dropped with his confusion, was sent rocketing up again. (Maybe he should just go ahead and kiss Victor already. The problem was getting them at the right angle for it again, given that Victor's cheek was currently making a mess of his curls.)

"I knew you'd agree, and I really can't sleep alone anymore, it's awful. Yakov keeps yelling at me for sleeping in to the last moment, but if I can't fall asleep in the first place, it's not my fault. Well, even back when I could, I kept staying up late, but still."

Wait. _Wait._ "Anymore?" Chris prompted.

"Hm? Oh, ever since I adopted Makkachin! She's such a sweet dog, and she always sleeps with me at night. I got so used to it that when I travel I miss her too much."

Chris dropped his head until it hit Victor's collar, feeling like an idiot. 'Sleep with me!' He had meant it _literally_? "She sounds like a good dog," he said, muffled against Victor's t-shirt, and that got him prattling on about Makkachin for a few minutes. Chris tuned him out while he replayed the elevator conversation in his head a couple of times and tried to push down the wave of disappointment flooding over him. So Victor hadn't be _interested_ in him when he called him cute?

At least, he tried to tell himself, he got to sleep with Victor, if not _sleep_ with him – maybe it could still become more, later. "Do you have any pets, Chris?" Victor asked suddenly, jolting him from his thoughts.

"Oh, not right now. I'd like to get a cat someday."

"A _cat_?" Victor sounded disappointed. A moment later, he added, "I guess a cat would suit you."

"What's wrong with a cat?"

"There's nothing _wrong_ with them," Victor said, and the way he said it was so delicate and put-upon that Chris couldn't help but laugh. He could feel Victor's chest shaking with quiet laughter of his own against his arms.

After that, they fell into a cozy quiet. Chris rearranged himself, shifting his legs until they tangled with Victor's, folding his lower arm against his stomach and throwing his free arm over Victor's waist, tucking his head against Victor's neck. Victor made a pleased hum, and it wasn't long until his breathing had gone slow and deep.

Well, this wasn't the exciting evening he'd been expecting, but it was – nice, more so than he had thought a few minutes ago, now that his limbs were arranged comfortably. Victor was warm, and the sound of his breath was soothing; Chris found himself matching its pace without realizing it. Doing that, his mind went quiet, and he let himself follow Victor into sleep.

* * *

A/N: Written ages ago (I recently realized I'd forgotten to cross-post it anywhere) for this prompt: During one of Christophe's first cups, Victor invites Christophe to sleep with him. Christophe accepts very enthusiastically, but turns out Victor sleeps better when he isn't alone and all he does is sleep.


End file.
